


Blue Swallow

by kurofu



Series: Writing Exercises [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Origami, POV Multiple, Stalking, Sweet Fluff, Unhealthy Pining, switching POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 14:09:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18389978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurofu/pseuds/kurofu
Summary: Writing Excercise 1: Two POVS, One SceneA stone gazebo in the spring with Tom|Voldemort and Harry folding origami and having a fluff, downtime together.  Two different POVs about their relationship told by Bellatrix and Ginny.





	Blue Swallow

**Bellatrix POV**

“That’s not how you do it.” A voice said softly, the sound like a breeze, warm and refreshing. 

Another voice groaned, this one much deeper, pitch like the deepest waters, smooth and fluid with hints of unknown danger. “Then how are you supposed to do it?”

“Here, let me show you again.” The sound of crinkling paper being pressed and smoothed flat, the scrape of a thin edge against a stone top when the paper was flipped before the crease of a precise fold. It was hypnotic, she had to admit, listening to the sounds, it helped that it soothed her from the battle-crazy state she had been in for the past millennia. 

She opened her eyes and smiled. Her Lord watched intently as his chosen consort expertly folded the colored paper as if the complicated designs were a simple task. With confident and dexterous fingers, her Lord’s consort created a swallow, the patterned blue paper making it seem preposterous if His consort hadn’t bent down and breathed on it. His consort opened their vivid eyes and a gentle smile bloomed on his face.

In his hands was a blue swallow, flapping its wings and chirping. It stuck out one hesitant foot and then another, taking its first steps. At the edge of His consort’s fingers, it raised its wings in preparation of flight, but before it took off, it turned around to look at its maker. 

“Go on,” His consort urged, raising his hands to eye-level. The swallow cocked its head to the side and chirped, rubbing its head on His consort’s thumb before taking off with a powerful beat of its paper wings. His consort laughed, a melodious thing, and rested his head in the crook of her Lord’s neck. “See? That’s how it's done.”

Her Lord sighed. “Only you can do such a thing.” 

Her Lord gently laid his head atop His consort and they relaxed into one another. They stared out of the stone gazebo and out towards the scenic view of spring before them–-the budding flowers, lush green leaves, and gently blowing breeze. The prancing of small animals in play and her Lord’s great snake lounging majestically on a warm rock.

She turned away from the intimate scene, content to let them be, and leaned back on the stone pillar she stood by. Her job as her Lord’s shadow was a taxing but honorable one. She protected him from the shadows and did as he commanded, the dark and dirty things that must never come to light. But, right now, beneath the gentle rays of the sun, she could relax.

Chirping beside her made her look to her side, His consort’s paper bird flew around her head. She lifted a hand for it to land, and she admired its intricate folds. It was realistic, especially with how the folds carved out each individual feather on the bird.

She knew she could never build such an intricate delicate thing, her hands too scarred and calloused to do so, a product of her youth’s foolishness and the battles she had fought, a representation of her will and skill. The bird flew above her, pulled at one of her black curls before flying away.

Yes, she chuckled, she was content.

%* *%

**Ginny POV**

She pressed herself as close as she could be on the stone pillar, her breasts pressing uncomfortably on the divots and ridges carved into it as decoration. Her nails clutched at the growing vines coiling around the stone, a lifeline to a drowning man. 

“That’s not how you do it.” 

She practically melted into the stone when HIS voice spoke, the soft, buttery feel as it caressed against her skin. She shuddered at the thought of HIM speaking directly to her, someone that HE only knows in passing. Oh, to catch HIS attention, was the dream she wished upon wished to happen: for HIM to come to her, ask for her hand, and d––

“Then how are you supposed to do it?”

The vines beneath her nails pierced, its translucent life force of sap burst and trickled between her fingers. But she didn’t mind. She didn’t care because there was a monster corrupting her angel, whispering into HIS ears and siphoning the purity from HIM.

The monster’s voice was oily, like the deep sea, disgusting liquid treasure the people liked to dig up, the type that stayed and polluted the beautiful blue waters with impurity. It was rich, rich in darkness that could consume and devour and hoard away the ears of those who listened to it, sin dripping from the monster’s tongue, black and mercurial.

But then, her angel had always been the holiest, managing to stay pure despite attracting repulsive beasts like these. “Here, let me show you again.”

She watched, transfixed, as HE gently took the paper from the monster’s sharp claws and flattened it into one as good as new. HIS deft fingers–-so slender and pretty, maiden-like–-lifting the edge of the patterned paper towards another before using his palms to fold a crease. 

With careful precision, an animal bloomed from the drab paper. It was so like HIM, to create something beautiful out of nothing. After all, that’s how HE attracted HIM to her, HIS soft smile and gentle, nonjudgmental visage as HE picked her up from the dirt, dusting dust off of her from where she fell before leaving on a beautiful horse. She had watched after HIS retreating back, the man that cared to help her when no-one did.

An awed breath escaped her lips when she saw the blue thing move, hopping around on HIS palms. And then–-and then, it took flight, soaring above HIS head and up to the gazebo roof. It dipped and dived, doing aerial tricks up high. Oh, it was a bird. A blue bird, but a bird nonetheless, something she knew that an angel like HE would definitely make. 

Her eyes tracked the bird as it flew in and out of the gazebo, weaving deftly through the pillars like an obstacle course. She gave out a shocked laugh as it whizzed by up above her, a strong breeze of wind from its wings disturbed the new leaves and blew her long red hair astray. 

She wanted to touch it, to feel it’s papery feathers against her skin, to have something that HE touched brushing her fingers.

She removed herself from her spot by the pillar and jumped after the bird, twirling as it flew circles above her head. It flew just low enough that she could reach it with her bare hands, but high enough that the paper teased against her fingertips. It trilled a melody along with her giggles.

Determined, she climbed a tree when the bird went for the clouds, reaching for freedom–-but she wouldn’t let it.

She needed it, wanted it, DESIRED IT. 

Her bare feet ran along the thick tree branch, chasing after the elusive bird, leaves raining down to the floor from the force. At last, she was at the edge and an opportunity in sight. The bird weaved through the branch, and when it got near her, she grabbed at it.

A sharp pain cut through her hand, but she didn’t care. She got it. She held the bird in her hands, as gently as she could be, but she was too happy. She caught it, she caught it, she caught it! She caught something that HE made!

Breathless, she looked back from where she ran, a bright wide grin on her face, desperate to grab HIS attention. But what she saw made her enraged. She clutched her hands in fury at the scene she saw: her angel being HELD by the MONSTER, its sharp, dangerous claws caressing HIS face–-and her angel, her holy, pure angel, held a peaceful look on HIS face.

Weak, pained trills escaped from her hand, and she looked down. Oh. 

The bird was crushed in her grasp, its wings fluttered slightly despite the crumpled state it was in. It looked malformed and sad and pathetic. The blue patterned paper splattered with vivid, red blood.


End file.
